


with a struggling sound

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is very late in the night, or very early in the morning; Robb is sleeping soundly on the couch, with a reddish curl falling between his eyes, when Theon finds him. He throws his head back, sighing, and leans on to Robb’s sleeping figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with a struggling sound

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in 1936 in Britain. Robb and Theon are seventeen; Theon is German, but has been adopted by the English Stark family when he was a year old (his family was suffering an economic crisis since they lost everything in WWI and they couldn’t afford to raise another baby besides Asha), so he remembers nothing of life in Germany.

It is very late in the night, or very early in the morning; Robb is sleeping soundly on the couch, with a reddish curl falling between his eyes, when Theon finds him. He throws his head back, sighing, and leans on to Robb’s sleeping figure.

“Go to bed, sleepyhead”, he murmurs.

It’s the sweetest he allows himself to be - with Robb, of course - because he’s never sweet with anyone else.

With a struggling sound, he takes Robb in his arms, helps him on his unsteady feet and carries him on the stairs. 

“Come on, idiot, use your feet - there, climb the stairs.”

At the door of his bedroom, Robb seems to awaken at the slightest bit. He’s still drunk.

“Theon?”, he asks, voice confused, his tongue moving slowly in his mouth like he’s forgotten how to talk. He clutches at Theon’s sweater with uncertain fingers, and starts laughing faintly.

“What? Robb. What?”

“I love you. I really do, mate. I  _dooo_ -!”

Theon’s heart is beating way too fast, and Robb doesn’t know how cruel he’s being.

“Shut up, dickhead, go drooling on your pillow”.

Robb stumbles into his bedroom and falls on the bed with his boots still on.

Theon stops on the door, gritting his teeth. ‘ _Leave it!_ ’ - something inside him pleads, but he can’t help himself. Catelyn’s going to  _kill_  Robb in the morning if she finds the bed dirty with mud. He walks to the bed and sits down, holding Robb’s ankle with a hand, and while removing the shoe with the other, he takes them off.

Robb tentatively gives a kick in the air, just missing his face.

“Fuck off”, says Theon. Robb laughs again and they start fighting, making muffled sounds as they roll entwined on the bed.

Robb shushes him and puts a hand on his mouth; Theon stares deeply into his eyes and curses himself silently.

Robb’s fingertips brush against his lips as he slips off his hand, and Theon’s eyes fall on his open mouth.

It takes all that he has not to fall into temptation. He sits up abruptly, straightening his shirt.

“Well, uhm”, he clears his throat, “goodnight”.

(He won’t sleep much for what is left of it).


End file.
